Stages

   "A journey of a thousand miles begins with just one step" 
      There are said to be 5 stages of grief. At the "Livestrong" website it talks about the grief associated with cancer, either as the patient or the family. Another website I visited believes there are 7 stages of grief, and this is closer to what I have felt since the possibility arose that I may have cancer, and through the testing process. I would like to take you through each stage, and share a little about how I was affected.
    STAGE 1:  Shock and Denial.
        Denial is a wonderful thing. You can pretend things aren't happening or not accept them and life can be peachy. In the long run though, this only causes more pain when actually have to face the situation. I knew that when the radiologist saw the nodules on the CT Scan that cancer was a possibility. I felt fairly confident. After all, if I was going to get cancer, it would be breast cancer. That only made sense.  And let me tell you, thyroid cancer is such a complex, confusing disease, it is hard to cope with, or even find information that is useful. The testing process took months. First blood was drawn. My numbers, which would be impossible to go into detail, were high, so my PCP told me to schedule an ultrasound and make an appointment with an Endocrinologist who came highly recommended. Of course I had to wait 5 weeks to get in to see him. In the mean time I had my ultrasound and was told 2 of the masses looked "suspicious". So, finally at my appointment with the Endo, he ordered a fine needle biopsy to tell us more. That appointment, of course took 4 weeks to get in. The biopsy was awful. I was so glad my husband came. they took 11 samples total, and several of them could not be reached with the fine needle, so they had to use a much larger syringe.  The next 6 days were agonizing. I went to my PCP on a Thursday and she asked if I spoke with the Endo yet. I said "NO" and she informed me that the nodules were cancerous and I would need to see a surgeon. Here's where the denial comes in. I was shocked. I did not cry right away. I kept telling myself and my friends and family that it was "good cancer" because it is very treatable. But when you stare at a piece of paper and in bold letters is typed **POSITIVE FOR PAPILLARY CARCINOMA*** your world begins to spin and it all becomes real. 
     STAGE 2: Pain and guilt.
           Now comes the part where you, the patient, find yourself comforting others. I would tell my husband and children and family and friends, "I'm fine, it's gonna be easy, no sweat" but inside I was terrified.  I hate that my boys have had to go through this, not just the cancer, but the depression too. They constantly worry, and have seen me cry far too many tears. They are  the most amazing young men on the planet, and I thank God for them everyday, but I hate that I have put them through this. And holding all of my fear and pain in, ultimately caused more damage in the end.
     STAGE 3: Anger and bargaining.
          Boy did this one hit me hard! After my surgery I was pissed at the world!! I was angry at doctors for not telling me how difficult recovery would be. I was angry at strangers in stores and doctors offices that didn't have cancer. I felt like I should be able to say anything I wanted because I had cancer damnit, and F*&% anyone that dare have a problem with me. This was way out of my character, and I'm glad it didn't last long, maybe a week or a little more. Being angry takes a lot of energy. This still creeps in once in a while, but not so much. I never bargained though, my attitude was more like "really?, seriously, give me a break!"
     STAGE 4: Depression and loneliness.
          Obviously I am stilling dealing with the depression, but it was there before, just made worse by my diagnosis. As many of you may have read on facebook, I went through a terrible phase of loneliness. I felt so alone and abandoned.   I posted things I regret, but I was truly feeling them at the time, and was reaching out. That feeling is slowly fading, but I have to put forth an effort as well, and reach out. That is definitely a two way street. You can't scream loneliness, than cut people out of your life. Boy did I learn that the hard way, as I do most of my life lessons.
     STAGE 5: The upward turn.
          I believe I am beginning the long walk up this hill. I have more moments of strength and less of despair each day. Sarah Evans sings it perfectly in her song "Stronger." Certain things will remind that I am fighting several fights here, but each day I become just a little stronger. And soon that glorious day will come when I do not shed a tear, and then maybe 2 days will pass, and before I know it a week. I am not there yet, I still have some really bad days, but not as many, and I achieve small, simple victories each day.
      STAGE 6: Reconstruction and working through.
             When a tornado or hurricane rip through a city, it only takes minutes or even seconds to destroy what took decades to build. The actual reconstruction takes years. To this day New Orleans is not the same. As with me, It may take months or years to rebuild the structures inside of my heart, mind, and body, that have been crushed by disease and depression, but someday  they will be restored to their former glory. No, strike that. I am going to emerge a stronger, new, improved, better version of myself. I am the butterfly, waiting quietly in her cocoon, changing, evolving, waiting for just the right time to come out.
      STAGE 7:  Acceptance and hope.
             Even though I have had the surgery and see the scar every day, and am awaiting treatment where I am actually injected with radioactive fluid that could harm others if I expose them to any bodily fluids in the first few days, I still have not fully grasped the concept that I am a cancer patient. For the rest of my life I will need mediation and testing. The treatment to rid my body of this cancer actually raises my chances of getting other forms of it. Most days I am just trying to get through with my heart and mind in tact. I don't have time or energy to worry about such things. I do have HOPE though. I am overflowing with it. I have a husband and three children that love and adore me and take amazing care of me. I have 2 BEAUTIFUL grandchildren and I plan to dance at their weddings. I know my husband should be the love of my life. I love him more than words can say, and could never live without him, but Jake and Kaylynn are truly THE LOVES OF MY LIFE! They are my future. They are why I fight. They are why I cannot give up. One touch from them is more healing than any pill or therapy available. HOPE. Yes I have hope, and it is radiant and warm and healing. Hope is my future. Hope is faith holding it's hand out in the dark.